Chapter Nine
It’s the Fourth of July and I wake up feeling like absolute garbage.
I’ve got a stuffy nose that I can barely breathe out of, a sore throat that feels like razor blades, a heavy chest, and watery eyes — the perfect mixture for a summer cold.
I feel poorly enough that I decide to take a sick day and not go into the diner; a rare occurrence for me.
Thea has settled in nicely and I know that between her, Graham, and Raquel, the diner is in good hands today.
Besides, we’re closing early so that everyone can attend the annual Fourth of July festival later in the day.
Driftbay knows how to throw a party when it comes to the Fourth.
All of the local establishments shut down around noon to allow everyone the opportunity to experience the party.
All varieties of food trucks come in, there are local vendors set up, carnival games, a giant Ferris wheel, and a marvelous fireworks show at the end of the night.
Most folks tend to migrate to the beach to watch the final spectacle, but I tend to stick to watching from my porch.
Thea plans to check out the excitement with her friends later.
I fall back asleep shortly after I hear her leave for the morning and wake up a couple of hours later.
I’m disoriented for a moment, but I can’t ignore the grumbling of my stomach.
I get up and stumble to the kitchen, only having enough energy to pop a couple pieces of bread in the toaster and grab the butter from the fridge.
While it toasts, I pad down the hallway to the bathroom and flip the light on, searching the medicine cabinet for some ibuprofen for my body aches.
Finding it, I shut the mirrored door and dump two pills out into my hand.
I run a small glass full of water, put the pills in my mouth and throw my head back, chasing them with the water.
Setting the glass down, I lean against the counter and stare at my reflection.
Gone are the youthful days of memories past, though most days I still feel twenty-eight.
More and more gray hairs are sprouting, a stark difference compared to their dark brown companions.
My face has fine lines and the beginnings of wrinkles, no matter how much expensive cream and serum I use.
I can’t fight the ticking clock. The bags under my eyes are prominent and harsh. Today is a day I truly feel my age.
The toaster dings in the kitchen and I flip the light off in the bathroom before making my way across the house.
I grab the toast with one hand and a knife with the other, scooping up pats of butter.
Longing to be back in bed, I toss the pieces of bread onto a paper plate and sit down at the table.
I’m able to get a few bites down before I give up and toss my breakfast into the trash can.
I head back to my bedroom and press a hand to my forehead; I think I have a fever. Crawling into bed, I pull the comforter up around my neck and burrow deep in my bed to try to get rid of my chills.
The sound of incessant knocking on my front door raises me from my slumber a while later. I glance at my alarm clock; I’ve been asleep for three hours.
If I ignore them long enough, they’ll go away, I think to myself as I reach for another pillow. I fold it over the back of my head, trying to cover my ears with it to drown out the knocking.
Only they don’t go away and the knocking doesn’t stop. I’m aggravated now, just wanting to rest. I get up and stomp out of my bedroom down the hallway to the door. I instantly soften when I see that it’s Charlie, holding a pail of soup from Regiano’s and some DVDs.
“I was asleep,” I say in apology as I open the door.
“Hey,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief as he sees me. “I was about to bust the door down.”
“You know where the spare key is,” I laugh and it turns into a cough that sets my throat ablaze.
“I noticed you weren’t at the diner this morning and Thea said you weren’t feeling well, so I brought supplies.” He holds up the soup pail and the DVDs. “Chicken gnocchi soup from Regiano’s, your favorite, and some cheesy rom-coms guaranteed to make you laugh.”
He’s dressed in civilian clothes, jeans and a plain T-shirt, but his radio is strapped to his hip. He must be off duty until the festival later.
“Don’t you have better things to do than to worry about me?”
He cocks his head to the side. “You should know by now that I’m always going to worry about you.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” I ask as I step away from the door so he can enter.
Charlie laughs. “Come on, Beth Ann, let’s get you feeling better.”
He steps across the threshold of my house and waltzes about like he owns the place. I follow him into the kitchen and sit down at the table.
“Nope,” he says as he sets the soup on the counter. “Couch.” He points in the direction of the living room.
I do as I’m told and get up, trudging out of the kitchen before collapsing onto one end of the couch. I frown down at myself. I’m in my favorite pajamas — an old sweatshirt of Charlie’s that I stole years ago and comfy sweatpants that have seen better days.
But it’s Charlie. He’s seen the worst of me. I’m sure he won’t care if my sweatpants have a few holes in them.
He walks back into the living room with a bowl of steaming soup and hands it to me before he crosses to the television above the fireplace.
I stare absentmindedly at the urn standing proud in the center of the mantle, next to it, a birthday card Thea placed there.
I can’t help but wonder what Caroline would make of Charlie and I if she could see this very moment.
I watch as Charlie fiddles with the DVD player for a bit. The soup steams my face as I breathe in the creamy, chicken aroma, beyond glad he brought this to me. I bring the first spoonful to my lips and blow on it to cool it.
“Mmm,” I hum, tasting the soup. This is exactly what I needed. I tuck my legs underneath me as I take another bite.
“Good?” he asks over his shoulder. He stands up and reaches for the remote on the coffee table.
“Very.” I take another bite, letting it soothe my sore throat.
Charlie walks around the coffee table and back to the couch. He puts his hand on my forehead as he asks, “Do you have a fever?”
“I think so,” I mutter. I haven’t had the energy to check but suspect so since I had the chills earlier. I tossed and turned all night, waking up in puddles of sweat every couple of hours.
“Have you taken anything?”
“A couple of ibuprofen.”
He nods. “Good,” he says as he sits down in the middle of the couch beside me. We sit in silence as he presses play on the remote, the trailers playing on the screen in front of us. I devour the bowl of soup and debate asking for more.
“Thank you for this,” I say as I set the empty bowl on the coffee table.
“Of course. I was worried about you. It’s not like you to not be at the diner.”
I nod in agreement. The diner is my life, it seems.
“Are you working tonight?” I ask, gesturing at his attire.
He shakes his head. “Only if they need me. We’re hoping for a quiet Fourth this year.”
“You shouldn’t have said that,” I laugh. “It’s like saying Macbeth in the theatre.”
Charlie smiles. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“If they need you, go. I’m okay,” I say. “I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”
Though it’s nice to have someone else take care of you, the voice in my head says.
Charlie gets up and crosses the living room to the basket of blankets in the corner. He selects one and walks back to the couch and drapes it over me.
“I know,” he says, smiling. “But I wanted to be here.” He sits back down on the couch.
I cough again, another thought popping into my head. “You never told me how your date went.”
The smile fades from his face. “Turns out,” he begins, “it wasn’t a love connection.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head and looks at me again. “Don’t be. I guess…I’m just waiting for the right one.”
He presses another button on the remote and nudges me to look at the television as the movie starts.
I dream about Caroline.
The sun glitters off the water as I watch her dance along the shore.
The only sound I hear is the lazy lapping of waves.
Caroline doesn’t seem to notice me, even though I’m standing so close I could reach out and touch her.
Her white cotton dress twirls around her ankles as she moves.
She doesn’t say a word. She just looks happy.
Totally, blissfully happy, as if she is somehow renewed. It’s a feeling I envy.
She stops dancing and turns to face me; the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. She takes my hands in hers, her touch featherlight.
“Tell him,” she says, her voice as faint as a whisper. “Let him know how you feel.”
I open my mouth to object but she stops me, still smiling.
She releases my hands and begins dancing again, moving further away from me now.
I reach out to grab her hand again but she dances out of reach.
I take a step toward her and then another, but every time she seems to slip through my fingers.
My feet sink into the sand as I watch her dance along the water’s edge until she disappears out of sight.
I wake with a gasp.
“Are you okay?”
I turn at the sound of the voice and see Charlie in the same position, still on his end of the couch. He’s looking at me with concerned eyes as I regain my bearings.
“I had a weird dream,” I say. “About my sister.”
He nods. “You were mumbling her name.”
I adjust my position and notice a drool patch on the armrest.
“Oh, my God,” I mutter as I wipe at it, Caroline now forgotten.
Charlie laughs as he watches me, the mood lighter now. “You looked too comfortable to move,” he adds.
I did sleep a bit more soundly with him on the couch than I did last night.
“You’re awake just in time for fireworks,” he adds, holding his hand out to me.
He leads me out of the living room and to my front door.
It was late morning when he came by. I’m surprised he is still here, since I’ve been asleep almost the whole day.
“Is Thea home? Did she stop by?” I ask, trying to get a grip on exactly how much time has passed.
He nods. “She stopped by a few hours ago, but we didn’t want to wake you.”
We step out onto the porch to watch the fireworks. There’s a cool breeze now that the sun has gone down and it feels great on my skin. My fever must have broken hours ago. I need a shower. I want to scrub the sweat sheen off of my skin.
The two of us stay silent as we listen to the folks out on the beach settling in.
“You know, you snore a little when you sleep,” Charlie laughs as he looks at me. He’s leaning against the railing.
My mouth drops open a little. “I do not,” I argue, playfully shoving his shoulder.
He nods. “I find it charming, actually, that such a small person can produce such a large noise.”
I cover my face in embarrassment just as the fireworks start.
Shimmering, effervescent explosions of color light up the night sky.
I have to admit, Driftbay knows how to put on a spectacular fireworks show.
I watch them for a while and begin to wonder where Thea is watching them from.
I make a mental note to text her when I go back inside and find my phone.
The faint smell of smoke lingers in the air and it tickles my nose. Charlie marvels at the fireworks and it’s like watching a little kid on Christmas morning. It’s endearing that he takes such delight in them. I catch myself watching him more than the actual fireworks.
We’re sitting in a comfortable silence watching the grand finale when I hear his radio go off — a jumbled rattling of a code I can’t understand. It instantly gets his attention.
Charlie looks at me with apologetic eyes as he radios back that he will be there as soon as he can.
“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s almost a whisper. He turns to the house.
“Don’t be.” I wrap my arms around myself as I shiver. “Duty calls. Besides, you spent all day over here taking care of me.”
We walk back into the house and I start toward the living room to grab my dirty dishes from earlier, but they’re already gone. I stick my head into the kitchen as Charlie pulls his sneakers on.
“I did your dishes earlier,” he says. “Figured you wouldn’t feel up to it.”
“Thanks,” I say as I stare at him. It’s been nice experiencing the domestic life with him today. I don’t know if it’s the sickness, or the dream about Caroline, but my mind is whirling and there’s only one thing I want — need — to say to him.
I know that if I don’t say it now, I never will. The words are coming fast and hard, ready to barrel out of me the second I open my mouth.
“I lied to you,” I say. It comes out quietly, my voice subdued by nerves and whatever virus is attacking my immune system.
“Hmm?” he hums. He’s fighting with his left sneaker in the doorway.
“I lied,” I repeat, growing more confident, “about your date.”
Charlie freezes and then slowly looks up at me. I know that whatever happens next has the ability to change the entire trajectory of our friendship forever.
“You…lied,” he repeats, the words heavy between us.
“I thought I could deal with it,” I say. “But I can’t.”
He rubs his face with both hands and sighs. I know time isn’t on our side, it never has been, but especially now with his work call fighting for his attention.
“So, when I asked you if you were okay with me seeing someone, you lied to my face?”
I pause, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. “Yes,” I whisper. I cross my arms in front of my chest as I look at him. “I want you to be happy, but I also don’t want to lose you.”
“You’re not going to lose me.” He steps closer to me, the seconds ticking away like a bomb about to explode.
“I didn’t want to lose our friendship,” I say.
He ponders this for a moment and I see a flash of anger in his eyes. “So, lying to me was the better alternative?”
“At the time, yes.” It’s a whisper again. “It meant keeping you in my life.”
“I can still be in your life and date someone else, Beth. The same goes for you. We’ve talked about this.”
Not hearing ‘Ann’ cross his lips feels like a slap to the face.
“I want you to be happy,” I repeat, fidgeting with the strings of my hoodie now. “I just…want you to be happy…with me.”
He stares at me, not hearing what I’m really saying.
“I love you, Charlie.”
There. I’ve said it. There’s no going back now. The words are out in the open, unable to be taken back or packed away neatly into some dessert, where I have been hiding them for so long.
His radio goes off again and I jump at the noise. He angrily jams it back into its holster after he repeats that he is on his way. He looks at me once more and motions between us.
“I have to go,” he says, and I detect a hint of anger laced in his voice, “but we are not done here.”
I nod and watch him walk through the door, wondering if he just walked out of my life.